I normally don’t pay too much attention to the hiking boots on my feet, but recently while sitting on a ledge by the West Royce Mountain summit in Evans Notch, Maine, I couldn’t help noticing that they’ve clearly seen some miles.
They’ve been on my feet for a good three years or so and have traveled on trails from Greece to Maine. Though beaten over the miles, the soles underfoot have plenty of traction left, the collars are supportive and the eyelets still anchor the laces.
However, the rubber rims on both boots are coming off, especially on the toes where it looks like they’ve been gnawed.
I turned to my wife, Jan, and said, ‘I’ve put in some miles and may be in the market for new boots next year, or perhaps try at an adhesive fix first.
Then I noticed her boots, equally weathered.
It reminded us of June 2011, when we were having lunch on Mount Field in Crawford Notch amida traverse that also included Mount Tom and Willey. Sitting on a rock slab with her, I noticed she had a long crevasse on the bottom of her hiking boot, like someone had bent her boot and cracked it. She’s meticulous with her gear, constantly cleaning, adjusting, checking, and making sure batteries are current, if applicable.
But apparently boot bottoms were something that flew under her equipment radar.
We finished the hike that day and Jan came away with an explanation of why she had felt her feet and socks were wetter than usual during hikes around that time.
So, she purchased new hiking boots.
She was wearing those boots the day we hiked up 3,210-foot West Royce, a little mountain with a big bite. I’d been up there before on a trek in 2012 that also included East Royce (the better of the pair for views) but not Jan, and we took a different route than the I one had done. We traveled along the Burnt Mill Brook Trail to the Royce Trail, 5.4-miles roundtrip that included plenty of steep terrain during the 2,200 feet of elevation gain, along with small patches of precarious footing.
On top of the strain, the mileage markers spun our heads. At the trailhead, the sign had the mileage at 2.5 miles to West Royce. The guide book, map and mile signs we eventually saw had it at 2.7 miles.
We think it’s 2.7 and then some.
The initially friendly Burnt Mill Brook Trail went along an unheralded ravine with the namesake brook bubbling down it. Plenty of ferns, about a half mile or so in a tall cascade caught our attention. But because of the lack of rain, there was no rush of thick water. Instead there was a thin trickle.
Though the first part of the trail was pleasant, it steepened as we went, with some slippery moss, and dry and slim tributary crossings. There was a goat-path feel underfoot for a while, until we reached the forgiving junction with the Royce Trail about two miles in.
Ascending the Royce Trail with its rock squeeze and monorail slab, there were limited glorious vistas through the trees to the vast rippling acreage. Light mist curtains flew by, a harbinger of things to come. With specks of mica on the trail, mossy carpets on rounded rocks and the mist becoming thicker, we meandered up the mountain, only to have dull drapes blocking vistas from ledges on the east side of West Royce.
Though optimistic, each of the handful of ledges presented the same blurry vistas. No matter. We ascended West Royce and found a pleasant outcrop near a sign telling of other pathways.
It was there we sat for our trail lunch and boot banter.
After holding court on my boots, I noticed hers were worn from mileage and time. We reminisced about that traverse five years ago and her holey boot. Jan then went to be by herself off the trail for a minute or so when, suddenly, laughter emerged from the silent forest.
“You spoke too soon,” she called.
Then she showed me her left boot and easily moved her toe rim from the body of boot, like a big toothless mouth.
Another holey boot.
Duct tape was applied.
Seems we hikers don’t pay much attention to our boot bottoms until it’s near the end.
And Jan had yet another explanation for why she felt her feet and socks seemed a bit wet over the miles this hiking season.